Seventy-six Patients treated at Clinic in Port-au-Prince

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Crowing roosters start our day before 6 a.m., and we have eggs and toast with spicy (eee!) peanut butter in the kitchen of the guest house before walking to the clinic. We walk along the unpaved streets down the rocky, rutted hill that the cars have trouble climbing, and cross a paved street dodging motorcycles and cars. In lieu of traffic signage, drivers here have the “nudge” method of negotiating who goes next–they nudge out into traffic, a little, a little more, a little farther until finally the passing traffic cannot go around them any more, and the driver can turn into the street. On our walk we pass a fellow dragging a block of ice half the size of a refrigerator using old metal tongs, and a group of smiling children who “high five” with Holly. We arrive at the clinic location to find that the students are there before us, and have already arranged chairs and benches. About 15 people are waiting to be seen–half an hour before we are supposed to begin. Some of them waited most of yesterday, when we saw more than 70 clients, then were told to come back in the morning. We break up into teams with a translator and a few of the students working with each of us. Holly teams with Phadael and Eugenie seeing children in the room that has electricity (maybe) and fans. Rami is in the dispensary, helping the students properly dispense the remedy protocols. Ruja works with Wilby and Jean Marguerite. I work with Tafael and Luvleen. Our teams are seated in tight circles of chairs in the covered patio area, because it is difficult to hear. There is the noise of trucks from the road, and an increasing number of people coming in from the street who are sitting on the benches that line the wall. My translator today is Maison, a young man who has been studying English, and is still working on pronunciation and vocabulary. “Rash” is “rush,” “brother” is “son,” “brown” is “dirt.” His English is so much better than my Kreyol that we muddle through, and he is eager to help. We begin working through the waiting group of people, which grows. Each case takes 5-15 minutes; we remind the students to ask about etiology and to clarify sensation, location, modalities. They look through their reference charts and remedy study cards as we discuss the remedy: Rhus-tox for the woman with back pain after lifting heavy packages? Silica for the woman with the so-swollen jaw and dental pain? Medorrhinum for the women with the yellow leucorrhea, pelvic pain, itching, and burning urination? Lycopodium for the gastritis with pain extending to the right shoulder blade and lots of bloating and belching?

We continue working until a 15-minute lunch break: peanut butter sandwiches, then back to it. It is very hot, over 95 and, unlike earlier days, there is no breeze. The people waiting begin to argue about who is going to get seen next, some are impatient and do not want to wait their turn. Loud words and yelling make it impossible for us to hear what the clients are saying in the close quarters. I loudly insist they all be quiet because we cannot help them if we cannot hear…. which unfortunately has no impact as they ignore me because I am speaking English… until one of the men steps over to translate… they settle down and we ask one of the men helping us to get packets of water for all the people waiting. The clinic is supposed to end at 3 p.m. At 2:45 there are still more than 25 people waiting to be seen who have been waiting since 9 or 10 a.m. We agree to continue longer…. and again to continue longer. The students and translators are getting droopy; Everyone is tired. After 4 p.m, we tell them we have to stop… and then we take a few more cases, regretting that we cannot see all of them. Our case count for the day: 76 people. The walk back to the guest house is dusty; Ruja and I watch a mama hen with her fledgeling chicks on the side of the road as we walk home. Later, after a shower and some cool water, Holly and I sit on the flat roof of an adjoining building that we have affectionately named “the veranda” and plan for the next day. As we sit, we watch a soccer game being played by young men on a concrete patio next door. When one team scores a goal, the guys on the other team have to drop to the concrete and do 10 pushups. Clouds are coming in and we can see snips of lightning, as we watch bats flying erratically overhead, catching insects. After the soccer game finishes, Holly plays toss from the veranda with some young boys in the yard below until dinner is called for the guest house. After dinner, Ruja has friends who come to meet us all, bringing a cherry topped cheesecake from their bakery here in Port au Prince—yummmmmmmm. Afterwards, another woman offers us a drink called kremas, made of cream, something alcoholic, spices, lime and sugarcane. It tastes as if it should be served out of a coconut or a hollowed pineapple with a little umbrella on it, delicious and exotic. As we sip, the first drops of rain hit, and then it is a race to the clothesline to grab our drying clothes and get into our room before we are soaked in the deluge. The rain cools everything off, and makes the night easy for sleeping, a welcome change. Tomorrow we go up into the mountains for clinic in Les Pinasse.~ Karen Allen, CCH